


Nebraska

by SunstainedRadical



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Drug Use, Heroin, M/M, Suicide Attempt, angsty midlife renegades, stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunstainedRadical/pseuds/SunstainedRadical
Summary: Stranded in the town of Lincoln, Nebraska, Stan and Rick's waned and somewhat twisted middle aged relationship is put to the test as Rick struggles with the thought of potentially raising a child, his and Stan's future, and his heroin addiction.





	1. Desolation

“Yeah...Uh huh...I know Jackie, listen, listen, I can be there by 11 tomorrow. Ya just gotta gimme some time to sort this shit out...Yeah...Yeah, yeah I know….Okay bye I go-gotta go Jackie, I really gotta go...Bye.” 

Rick Sanchez hung up the payphone and coolly strolled out to the corner of 12th and Lafayette Street. Positioning one of his thin legs against a brick wall, he leaned back and then removed two cigarettes from his denim pocket, proceeding to smoke one while twirling the other across one of his skeletal hands. His hazel eyes were focused intently on the way the cigarette danced around his knuckles as it spiraled in and out of his open palm. Dressed in a light teal tank top partially shrouded by a black leather jacket accompanied by grey, discolored jeans, he definitely looked the part of a cheesed off street punk. Rick broke his gaze with his cigarette and looked up at the Nebraskan sky, only for his eyes to meet a coagulation of putrid grey clouds obstructing the sunset. This town reeked of misery. Not just the town, everything. Everything around him seemed antagonizing. Everything around him was the devil. Everyone he’d ever met seemed like they were out to get him. Everyone except the one friend he’d let in. And in a way, Rick didn’t feel deserving of this affection from the man with whom he had been dating on and off. But this man, he made Rick feel great, he had given him a reason to keep living. He was the one who saw him through, the one who saw the beauty that Rick just couldn't grasp sometimes, the one who would always be by his side no matter how much hell they went through. He was the one who made him feel human. Or something like that.

Drawing another cig from his pocket, Rick looked out in the street. His glazed eyes vacant and his mind clustered, Rick watched occasional cars ride up and down Lafayette Street, everyone preoccupied with their hectic lives. Lincoln, Nebraska, he thought, what a hellhole. I’d swear the only good thing about this town is the heroin.

A familiar pair of headlights rounded the corner and stopped just in front of him. Rick took one final drag of whatever tobacco was left in the cigarette and tossed it in the street. He coolly strode over to the burgundy-colored convertible and hopped in. 

The driver spoke, “Christ Rick, how’re you not freezing yer ass off? It’s like 30 degrees out!”

“Eh, I dunno Pines. It’s weird being somewhere other than- Whoa-hoa-hoa, what’s with the new jacket?”  
The driver smirked, “Oh you like? I stole these babies from a giftshop a few miles south down I-80. There’s one sittin’ in the back for ya.”  
“Uh huh.” Rick replied, somewhat mesmerized at the way this cerise-colored coat hugged his boyfriend’s body. It cradled the man’s pudgy stomach and firmly stretched over his husky arm and broad shoulders. “Holy shit Stan, you look really fuckin’ hot right now.”  
Stanley Pines chuckled, humored by Rick’s lack of subtlety. “Thanks Rick. Now put yours on. Yer punk ass is gonna get frostbit if you don’t.”

“Heheh, alright fucker.”

The air went silent for a good while until Stan spoke up, “Rick? You been feelin’ alright?”

“Yeaha.” Rick scoffed, obviously lying.

“I know this place isn’t the greatest, but it’s the best we got for now.”

“It’s alright Lee. I’m just fuckin tired is all.” 

“Come on Rick, don’t fuck with me. We’ll ditch it eventually.”

“It’s not the town, Lee,” Rick snapped, “It’s-It’s fucking everything!”

Stan turned his concerned, caring eyes to Rick. And right there Rick felt a thousand queries and negative thoughts inundate his mind. It hurt, there was so much wrong inside of him. From his heroin addiction to the end of his punk rock band to his obsession with science to the years spent on the run with Stan, Rick didn’t know where to start. It didn’t help how he was reluctant to divulge to Stan. He felt trapped, drowned inside of his own subconscious unable to breathe. 

“Rick?”  
“Fuck... It’s-It’s alright Pines,” he stuttered, “I’m honestly alright. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I-I just get sick’a thinking too much. H-How about you?” 

Stan hesitated, he hated it when Rick got like this, but he knew trying to reason with him wasn’t worth it. The two had already had so many fights since they moved here around two weeks ago. Stan sighed and peered over to his disheveled boyfriend. Once upon a time, they ran away from New Jersey together. At only seventeen years old, they were teenage renegades who didn’t give a damn about their future. Now their future was here and at thirty years old, life seemed bleak, their emotions confined to a washed-up, smoke screened town, unwanted by everyone, this was as good a home as any. 

Stan snapped out of his trance, “I-uh just, I’m okay.”

Rick turned his gaze towards Stan, trying to look him straight in the eye, “How did we get so fucked up, Stanley?” 

Stan felt a chill reverberate through his body. Rick rarely ever called him by his full name. “I-I don’t know,” he said shakily, he coughed to clear his voice, “I don’t know Rick. Guess it’s just all of the drugs and sex comin’ back to bite us in the ass.”

Rick chuckled, they had had a lot of crazy experiences together. “You remember that night after the last Flesh Curtains concert where we blasted Velvet Underground and Sex Pistols till the sun came up? Th-That was seriously like the best night of my life.”

Stan gave a hearty laugh, “Holy shit Rick, you were so fucking wasted. I swear to God you made out with everyone at that party.”  
Rick smirked a devilish grin, “What can I say, th-that shit really turns me on. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fuckin’ fun in my life.”

“What was that blue space drug called again?”  
“Kaylax? Those’re collaxion crystals. Those shits have such a pungent high that you can smell ‘em for miles. The high is short as hell, but Squanchy had a truckload of ‘em. ‘Swear to God, I was on another fucking planet after snorting those shits. I’ve never ever felt so alive, Lee. Well, besides when we met up after Colombia.”

Another sensation billowed through Stan. He remembered the night vividly. He had been incarcerated in a Colombian prison for a year after being caught with the mob and arrested on drug charges. During that time, Rick had been touring with the Flesh Curtains, powerless to save him. But every week, Stan would always receive letters from Rick, and they empowered him to keep living. And the night they reunited, Stan collapsed into Rick, having seen what prison was really like and how hellish it really is. But with Rick there, he was safe, he was untouchable, he was free forever, and he never looked back the whole way home. 

Stan coughed and recomposed himself, “Yeah, that was somethin’. Never felt so alive in my entire life.”

Rick gave a warm smile, “Y’know sometimes Stan, I think that you don’t need to preoccupy yer mind with tri-trivial shit like drugs n shit. I mean all of my fondest memories are with y-you Stanley. You’ve saved my li-life. I owe so much to you.”  
“Rick quit bein’ such a sap.” Stan laughed and ruffled his hair with his right hand. 

“I-I mean it Lee. I really fucking do.” Rick exhaled, and looked around at the dark night sky around them. And he thought about life. He thought about the gift of Stan’s company. He was the only person in the whole Multiverse who would fuck with him. Everyone except Jackie. Jackie, Rick thought, her, fuck. A while back while Stan had been on his own, Rick had banged a white girl. He didn’t understand why he did it. Perhaps it was to resolve the heterosexual feelings he’d faced and felt so guilty for having. Now she was pregnant and knew Rick was the father. And Rick hated himself again. His favorite person in the world was at his fingertips but he felt an energy to change, to raise a child, and bring light into the world. He didn’t want to leave him, but how would Stan react if he told him he was going to be a father? And Rick hated himself again.

Rick tensed up as he felt a large, warm hand tenderly clutch his leg. The abruptness of this gesture awoke him from his remorseful trance. He hadn’t even realized he was daydreaming. Enthralled, Rick peered over at the delicate way the burgundy coat cradled his boyfriend’s body, the tautness in his thick pants as they squeezed his legs. A hand grabbed his cheeks and benevolently guided his head up until he was greeted by Stan’s smug grin which was slightly illuminated by the car’s dim overhead lights. Slowly letting go of Rick’s face, Stan’s complacent smirk shifted to a sympathetic and caring smile and Rick felt his cheeks burn red.

“Rick,” he ventured, “I-I know shit might‘ve been tough lately, but I want you to know that I’ll always love and appreciate you. Life’s been pretty damn lonely without ya. You’ve rescued me from some dark places. You saved me too, y’know. Don’t ever forget that.”

Surging himself forward, Rick propelled himself into Stan, pressing his lips forcefully on his. Any smugness Stan had left washed away as he lost himself in the kiss. The kiss was at first violent and sloppy, but it quickly turned soft as the two men lost themselves in each other’s embrace. And Rick went numb. It was a warm, surreal numb. One that alleviated the heroin high he was coming down from. One that hypnotized him and destroyed the dark thoughts he couldn’t stop thinking about. And Rick could feel the warmth. He could taste it. He could lose himself in this endless, breathtaking rapture. He felt untouchable. At least until the frosty air crept into the car, snapping the two out of their trance. And before the two knew it, they were running through the cold, holding hands, each respectively holding a bottle of booze in their other, exhaling the white, frigid Nebraska air as they scampered to their apartment, laughing and smiling at each other again.


	2. Lookin Away, It's Another Day

To say the Pines-Sanchez apartment was a pig sty was an understatement. 

Stan yawned, hungover, and groggily trudged out of bed. He placed a hand on his sore back and cursed, unsure of what exactly happened last night. He maneuvered himself around the room in an attempt to dodge the various scientific contraptions and debris strewn across the unkempt floor. Entering the bathroom, he partially closed the door, stripped, turned on the shower, and clambered in. Stan was lost in his thoughts as the water turned from a hellish cold to a somewhat moderate temperature. He washed himself with their cheap soap and lathered his ruffled brown hair with shampoo while his mind was trying to recall what went down last night. 

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open snapped him out of his thoughts. “Mornin’ Stan,” said a familiar voice, “You seen my weed?”

Stan couldn’t help but laugh, “No, you probably smoked it last night after sex. Or..whatever ever we did last night.”

“Nah I always smoke before sex, you know that Lee.”

Stan reminisced for a brief moment, remembering when they first met how Rick would bust out a joint before sex. He said it gave him more sexual prowess or some shit like that.

“Check the cabinets,” Stan suggested.

“Already am, nimrod,” Rick joked, scouring through the wooden cabinet under the sink, knocking multifarious junk over. “The fuck, I know it’s around. Where the hell is it?” 

“Beats me, nerd.” replied Stan as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. 

“Stan, what time is it?”

“Shit, uh, I think it’s eleven,” Stan responded, turning off the faucet. 

“Fuck, Stan I gotta go,” Rick said as he darted out of the bathroom.

“What? Why? Where are you going?”

“The d-details aren’t important. I’ll be back by five, I swear,” Rick replied as he rummaged through his messy dresser, pulling out a white dress shirt and brown khakis. 

Stan exited the shower with a towel gingerly wrapped around his waist. “Rick, if yer gonna do some illegal shit, the least you could do is bring me. I mean, I know we’ve been apart a while, but-”

“No,” Rick replied, pulling the khakis up over his lower body, “It’s s-something else.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s nothing.”  
“Bullshit.”  
“Dammit Lee,” Rick retorted, perturbed “Believe me, I don’t wanna do this shit but I have to.”

“Rick,” Stan inquired in a concerned tone, “Are you shooting up heroin again?”

“No, No,” Rick responded nervously as he tied a leather belt around his waist, “Besides it’s not that.”

“Come on Rick,” Stan prodded, “Yer better than that shit.”

“It’s not that. I, uh. I just have something that I need to do. I gotta meet up with Jorge.” Rick fibbed as he pulled the white dress shirt over his head, slipping his arms through the sleeves.

“Like hell you do. Just be real with me Rick, please?” replied Stan, pausing for a second, “Jorge’s ass got sent to prison last year you liar.”

Buttoning up his shirt and pushing down the collar, Rick looked to the ground and sighed. “Look, I ain’t snortin’ dope anymore. So, you can quit playin’ that over-sensitive motherly card. ‘Sides, that shit doesn’t erase what I’ve gone through.”

Stan sighed, he could hear a timidness in Rick’s voice. It didn’t make him any less mad, but he let him go, “Whatever, I don’t wanna hear it.” Saying no more, Rick grabbed a somewhat refined mahogany suitcase in one hand, clenched his black tie in the other, not bothering to put it on in front of Stan, and left the room. A flood of cold wind inundated Rick as he stepped outside. He darted in the car, too ashamed to look back, and he drove out. Stan could only stand there in confusion, and helplessness as he watched the car disappear.

“Whatever, Rick,” he said in a monotone voice, “I’m sick of your shit anyway.”

Alone, Stan hobbled around the carnage from last night, muttering to himself. He knew he didn’t really mean what he’d just said, but he didn’t care.

“Why can’t this fucker be real with me?,” he sighed, as he rummaged through dressers to find some clothes, “Why can’t we be free? I wanna live, I don’t..wanna..die here as a washed-up loser.” He choked on his words. Nothing ever seemed to last, did it? Six months in this damn town and it seemed that their troubles had festered. Rick was hardly around and Stan had fallen into depression. “It doesn’t..have..to be this way,” Stan sighed to himself, “We’re..better..than this. I know we are Rick.”

Now clad in grey boxers and wrapped in a blanket, Stan fumbled through one of the messy bedroom drawers and recovered a CD. The album cover of the disk was an overwhelmingly dismal, grey sky as seen through a car’s windshield. To both the right and left of the windshield spanned two endless black fields, their vastness only stopped by the asphalt road in the center. The cover painted an infinitely stark picture that Stan felt he understood too well. How funny it was named Nebraska, Stan thought. Ever since he’d snatched it from a run-down CD store, he’d been dying to hear it. After all, Springsteen was Stan’s favorite.

He then proceeded to insert it into their large, rectangular CD player. He pressed play and slowly meandered his stocky self into their unmade king size bed, pulling the messy covers over his bare chest as the shrill sound of a harmonica echoed throughout the room. Exhaling gently, Stan closed his eyes. Accompanied by only a quiet acoustic guitar and a harmonica, Springsteen sang of a man on death row, alone, who was reflecting on the heinous acts he’d done and the true loneliness he’d bore. By the time the song was over, Stan’s felt tears roll down his cheeks. And as the album played on, Stan fell deeper and deeper into its emptiness while a delicate November snow dusted the town. 

 

 

 

I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton

Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died

 

From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska with a sawed off .410 on my lap

Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path

 

I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done

At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun

 

The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death

Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest

 

Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor head back

You make sure my pretty baby is sittin' right there on my lap

 

They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my soul'd be hurled

They wanted to know why I did what I did

Well sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Stan must’ve been out for hours for when he woke up, the desolate roads which circled the apartment complex were blanketed by a layer of snow. The rest of the day was a blur. He went to the pub and chatted up some old friends. Yet he had a gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach all day. Of what, he couldn’t determine. Perhaps it was the album Nebraska which frightened him. Perhaps it was the nebulous void of a town which frightened him. Or perhaps, he was just frightened of his future and how dark and enigmatic it appeared. 

When the clock struck seven, Rick, across town, left Jackie’s decrepit house, depressed again. Walking home, he smoked his cigarettes like he had the day before, but this time skewed off the desired road to a dimly lit alley. Oddly stoic to the vender, he purchased his .25 Bauer Automatic and left without another word. He tucked the pistol into his jacket pocket, and ran. He ran as fast as he could home so that he could write a note. For when his brains were splattered across the floor, he could give Stan some semblance of closure.


	3. Then My Mind Split Open

The door was thrown open in a rush. Miscellaneous inventions and trinkets were kicked and shoved aside as Rick desperately scoured the moonlit room for any shred of paper. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but he didn’t care. For once, he thought, that he would finally have some peace in his life. And his intoxicated, buzzed-up state only furthered the dark desire which was centered and burdened in his mind.

Finally, he found his paper and placed it on one of their dressers. He pulled out a pen from a desk and inscribed:

 

I’m sorry Stan. I know how heartbroken you will be, but don’t cry over me. You’ll find someone better. You’re an amazing, amazing person. I’ve just been holding you back all this time. I have to do this, for you and for me.

 

Rick stopped, holding back his sobs. In a state of anger and misery, he pressed himself on to finish his tear-coated letter.

He continued: 

 

Don’t worry about me. You deserve to be happy. You deserve peace. I have just been holding that from you. I won’t take that away from you ever again. I love you forever Stanley Pines. Goodbye.

 

He put the pen down. It was over. Now all he had to do was pull the trigger. In a state of urgency, he fumbled for the gun and pressed it against his temple and closed his eyes.

“This is it,” his voice quavered, “No..fucking..longer..will I suffer. I..will..be gone Stanley and you..won’t..have..to..fucking..worry. That will be it. I..will..be gone, gone, gone. You..will..be..happier. You don’t need my sorry ass. It’s..better..this...way...” 

He closed his eyes tight. Time stood still.. Everything he’d ever felt seemed to hit him at once, the darkness and the light. Everything in his mind was distorted. Every thought, every smile, every tear, every crazy night he could remember again. Every ounce of rage, every ounce of satisfaction and gratification, every ounce of sexual delight, every ounce of academic pride, everything that made him himself. Every time he was able to express himself through his music, every time he’d furthered himself in his studies, every time he had reunited with Stan. Shivers reverberated through his body giving him goosebumps. The room was motionless. Rick inhaled deeply with a somber moan, his arm shuddering. He really was afraid, afraid of himself, terrified of his mind, petrified of the future. But he was weak. He was human. 

The door swung open and Rick looked in horror to see Stan’s petrified face alit amidst the black outside world.

“Rick!” Stan shouted to him at a blood-curdling ferocity. In a numb, terrified stupor, Rick could only watch as Stan bolted towards him. A look of fear and helplessness was plastered on Rick’s face which mirrored Stan’s. Nothing seemed real anymore. Echoing through his head were the words he’d written, the decision he faced, the suffering he could end, right now. 

In an instant, Rick was knocked off his feet and pinned to the ground with a loud thud, the pistol quickly flying from his grasp and dropping to the floor. He reopened his eyes, but could hear nothing. A buzz whirred through his deranged mind only accompanied by Stan’s inaudible screams. Stan’s tear-coated face was inches from his own, yelling and screaming. And Rick came to, afraid again as he stared up at the horrified man whose once relaxed pale brown eyes were now engulfed with dread and trepidation and overflowing with tears. Stan’s face was scarlet red with anger and his apprehensive eyes bore daggers into Rick in desperation for an answer. Rick instinctively felt his eyes close in an attempt to protect himself from Stan’s lingering gaze. He didn’t want to open his eyes and face what he’d almost done.

“I’m so afraid Stan,” came a weak murmur, “I’m so afraid…”

“Wh-What are you afraid of, Rick?” The air was silent now, only breached by Stan’s heavy breathing.

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me Stan,” Rick cried with a shudder in his voice between sobs, “I-I really don’t know anymore. I-I really don’t. I..am..not like this. Please. I-I just can’t g-get happy. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“Rick? You’re not making any sense.”

“I know. I should’ve pulled the trigger. Then I wouldn’t have to s-see the look on your face.”

Stan exhaled in both confusion and surprise, “Me? What about you? I’m not the one pinned to the ground at one in the morning tryin’ to kill myself,” Stan began to sob uncontrollably, “I-I’m not the one who was going to throw everything away. I don’t know why you would d-do this Rick. Why? Why would you even think of…” Stan’s voice trailed off to silence. “Just talk to me Rick, just talk to me please.”

Rick remained silent for a few moments then spoke, “Six months ago, y’know when we moved here, there was this girl, Jackie, who I fucked around with. She called me up the other day and says she’s pregnant and that she knows it’s mine. I...I just-I can’t fucking bring myself to leave her and just forget about this. I don’t know why but there’s something in me that wants to be a father. I actually want to be there for a child, pass knowledge down, y’know? I don’t know what it is, but I wanna say I contributed something good to the world.” Rick slowly pulled himself off the floor and laid down upon the bed, Stan sidling up next to him. He turned towards Stan. “But then there’s you Stan. I’ve loved you like never before. Even though we were platonic in the past, I-I see the fire in your eyes now. I see the love in your heart. I don’t feel worthy. I thought this’d be the end and I’d never have to deal with my stupid problems again.” Rick leaned into Stan, tears dripping delicately down his face. “I’m sorry Stan, I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I always thought I was f-fucked up as a kid, but now look at me. I...I’m such a loser Stanley. I don’t deserve anyone. I’m a loser.” 

The air was silent for a few seconds until it was broken. “No...No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. After all the sh-shit I’ve done, you have to see that by now.”

“No, you’re not a loser Rick, goddamn it.” A frigid silence pierced the air. “You’re not a goddamn loser Rick,” Stan repeated, a cold anger lingering beneath his shaky voice, “Can’t you see? You’ve always been there for me. I don’t why you’ve stuck around a washout like me, but you have. Rick, you mean more to me than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Even after I slept with a woman? Even after I lie constantly to your face?” Rick asked with an exasperated tone, “Why haven’t you left me? W-Why do you keep giving me second chances when I all I do is leave you and worry a-about myself? I fuckin had an affair with a woman. Wh-Why?” 

“Because I love you Rick,” Stan replied earnestly, “I..I really mean it. I love you too. I really do. I don't know if I fully forgive ya, but who fucking care?. I-I love you. I can't lose you. P-Please Rick, you have so much to live for, together or not.”

Rick choked on his words as they came out, “Goddamn it Lee, I don’t want to leave you.”

Stan softly wrapped his arm around Rick and pulled him to his side and they both stared up at the stars outside through their small yet frosty apartment window for a while. After an unknown time, Rick started to drift off, his face pressed into Stan’s chest. He regained consciousness when he felt Stan shift about and pull away from him. Half asleep, Rick watched sleepily as his boyfriend slid under the covers now attired in a snug pair of sweatpants and a grey shirt. Rick subconsciously tucked himself in after removing his scarlet red jacket and khakis. Cold, he sidled himself next to Stan, his eyes struggling to stay open.

Something caught his attention. Although his drowsiness was overcoming him, Rick could feel Stan kissing his forehead. Gently sliding his lips down Rick’s face, Stan made his way to Rick’s lips where he strengthened his kiss and ran his thick hands through Rick’s ruffled jet black hair. In a dream-like state, Rick gave a sloppy kiss in return. The moment seemed to end as quick as it had started, but Rick was so tired that he was in no mood to complain. Everything seemed like a dream, a serene dream suspended from reality. As Rick drifted off, he could ever so slightly hear Stan’s deep voice so quietly whisper, “I know yer unsure of the future, but know that I’ll always love you, no matter where we end up, separate or apart. I love you Rick. I love you.”


End file.
